Daughter Comforts Her Divorced Daddy

One Friday came around like usual. I got home from work, took a shower and settled in front of the TV with a few beers. The lads wanted me to hit the town, but I wasn’t ready yet. I didn’t mind a few drinks with friends, but the boys seemed to think the best way to get over my divorce was to get laid.

I wasn’t ready for a fling. What I was ready for was a take-out, and settling down to some of my favourite movies. Maybe a self-service before bed if was feeling Hot.

Life was simple and drama-free.

Then someone was rapping on the door at eleven. I sighed, paused the film and braced myself. I did try to ignore it, at first. Sometimes, the odd piss head mistook my apartment for somebody else’s, but whoever it was, was persistent.

I put on my stern face and opened the door, but left the safety chain on. I almost cursed, but instead of an asshole, it was Nia.

“What are you doing here? Date night is next Monday,” I grinned.

“Can I come in?”

I unlatched the safety chain and opened the door for her. I caught the musk of the perfume she was wearing as she walked past me. It was proper going out stuff, rich with a hint of sandalwood.

As she went to the kitchen to fill up a glass of water, I couldn’t help but check out what she was wearing. Short black dress that accentuated her generously sized breasts and the skirt short enough for easy access. She had make-up on, too. Not the stuff she usual
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